


The Need to Let Go

by queenmidalah



Series: Gates of the Crossroads Series [2]
Category: Black Jewels - Anne Bishop, Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-15
Updated: 2011-08-15
Packaged: 2017-10-22 15:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/239818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenmidalah/pseuds/queenmidalah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to Gates of the Crossroads, set the night of that story. Dean can’t sleep because of the memories. Much to his surprise, considering his history, he finds a sympathetic ear</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Need to Let Go

_"Can we uh... be realistic about this please?" Jo Harvelle said. Sam and Dean Winchester turned to look at her._

 _"I can't feel my legs..."_

Dean shifted in his sleep, a frown marring his handsome features.

 _"Dean!" Jo yelled before running towards him._

 _"Stay back!" Dean called to her. In slow motion, he watched her let a shot off at a hellhound, only for her to turn in time as another invisible beast attacked her and ripped her body open._

Dean jerked a bit, his head tossing on the pillow.

 _Uncurling the wires and bringing them from the bombs they created to Jo, Dean knelt beside her. He showed her the trigger in his hand._

 _"Okay, this is it," he said. He looked at her too-pale face and tried to give her a smile but knew it was tight. "I'll see you on the other side." She gave him a shaky smile. "Probably sooner than later."_

 _With a pain filled movement, Jo lifted her gun and handed it to him. "Make it later," she said. He took the gun and set it aside before lifting her hand and hesitantly pressing the trigger to her palm._

 _Dean looked at her, trying to find words that wouldn't come. A sad, laughing huff escaped his mouth and Jo offered the barest of smiles. Dean cupped her face and pressed his lips to her forehead, lingering just enough before pulling back to look at her again._

 __It's not enough... _he had thought to himself. As he looked into her eyes, he knew that he would never have this chance again before he leaned forward again and, this time, he pressed his lips to hers. He felt his emotions starting to crack as he rested his head against hers a moment._

 _"Okay," he finally whispered, a sentiment she echoed before he pulled away._

"No," he murmured as he tossed, the covers tangling around his legs.

 _Sam and Dean watched Ellen and Jo simply stare at one another. For Dean, it didn't take a genius to figure out what was being said silently between them. He hoped he was wrong, but the moment that Jo spoke, he knew he was right._

 _"Mom, no," she said, her voice catching._

 _"Somebody's gotta let 'em in," Ellen said. "Like you said, you aren't movin'."_

Dean's hand fisted into the bedcovers, clenching as the memory rolled through his mind.

 _"Dean," Sam started to say, as if trying to persuade him to convince Ellen to reconsider staying with Jo._

 _"Get goin' now, boys," Ellen said._

 _"Ellen," Dean said._

 _"I said go," Ellen replied, cutting off any argument before Dean or Sam could speak up. Reluctantly, the two men started towards the route they had found to leave the hardware store._

 _"And Dean?" He paused and looked at Ellen. "Kick it in the ass. Don't miss."_

"Ellen..." Dean tossed.

 _They'd barely gotten a block or so down the street when the hardware store exploded. Arms coming up, both Dean and Sam turned, staring at the wall of fire and the shattered glass that now littered the street._

"No!" Dean yelled as he sat straight up, waking from the memories. His heart was racing and his eyes darted around the dark room, ornately decorated. His mind was fuzzy, still trapped in the flashback.

"Dean?" a sleepy sounding voice said beside him.

His head jerked around and he looked down at the woman he just saw dying in an abandoned hardware store. As the dream and sleep started to fade from his brain, the memories of the last few hours came back to him. Being brought through the gate to Kaeleer and finding out about the realms, the world they now lived in. Reuniting with Ellen. Reuniting with Jo.

"Are you okay?" Jo asked, still sounding sleepy. She started to push herself up, but Dean stopped her.

"Yeah," he said, resting his hand on her shoulder, caressing the skin. "Just a bad dream. Go back to sleep."

"Are you sure?" Jo asked. She didn't fight laying back down.

"Yeah," Dean said. "I'm just gonna go get some air or something, clear the dream from my head."

"You sure?" she asked again, but most of it was lost as she yawned.

Dean smiled a bit and leaned over, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I'm sure," he said. "Just sleep."

"M'kay," Jo murmured, snuggling down again. It wasn't long before she was overcome with sleep, her breath evening out. Dean took just a moment to watch her sleep, just as he had before he had also fallen asleep earlier that night. He swung his legs off the bed and reached for the t-shirt he hadn't put on after his shower. Despite a knowing look from Sam, Jo and Dean had not been intimate before going to bed. They were too emotionally drained from reuniting that holding one another as they slept had been enough. Till Dean's nightmares began.

He quietly made his way out of the room he was sharing with Jo, glancing down the expanse of hallway on each side. Taking a moment to orient himself, he made his way towards the staircase that would lead him down into the large family room of the Hall. SaDiablo Hall he had been told it was called. The Devil Hall was his translation, especially as he and Sam exchanged glances. Coupled with the fact that the owner of said Hall was named Saetan, then there were his sons, Daemon, Lucivar and Mephis.

Dean paused as he walked into the sitting room, one of the very men he had been thinking of sitting in a large, cushy chair. The man he had been introduced to as the High Lord of Hell. The man who Ellen had described as quite a gentleman.

Sensing someone else in the room, Saetan turned to level his gold gaze at Dean. "Lord Winchester," he said in a quiet, but deep, commanding voice. "Trouble sleeping?"

"Yeah," Dean said. "You?"

"The night is my domain," Saetan said. "As a Guardian, it is easier on my body to rest during the highest parts of the day. Plus many of those I work with can only be out at night."

"Right," Dean said. "The demon dead."

"Yes," Saetan replied. "Please, have a seat."

"I don't mean to disturb..."

"You aren't," Saetan said. "Unless you speak too loudly and wake the little darling up."

Dean frowned, confusion washing over him. Curiosity did win out as well as he moved closer to the man, which is when he saw the little pale-blonde head that lay against his shoulder. Dean's eyebrow arched as he looked at Saetan.

"A granddaughter, of sorts," Saetan explained. "She and her family are visiting from Nebula and she also had a nightmare. I suspect she picked up on the one that has been plaguing you most of the night."

"How..." Dean started.

"It's sometimes difficult to block out such things from the Blood, particularly powerful members of the Blood," Saetan explained as Dean sat in the seat across from Saetan, resting his elbows on his knees. "And since most of those who reside here are amongst the most powerful to ever walk the Realms, we see a great deal."

"And her?" Dean asked, nodding to the toddler curled up in Saetan's lap, fast asleep as she snuggled against his chest.

"Do you remember when we explained about the Jedi being very real?" Saetan asked.

Dean chuckled. "How could I forget?" he asked.

Saetan softly smiled, remembering how wide-eyed and excited the young man had gotten. "Clarisse is from a world where the Force is very strong," he said. "She, herself, is a strong Force user simply from her parentage, but it is amplified on that world. Yet she is a mere baby still, so her ability to block out strong emotions is not yet in place."

"Oh... sorry," Dean said, realizing what Saetan was implying.

"No need to apologize," Saetan said. "Nightmares are normal for anyone."

"Was more like a flashback," Dean said. "And no adult should remember things like that, let alone a little kid." He shifted his head to get a better look at Clarisse. "She's a cute kid."

"That she is," Saetan said, obvious affection in his tone as he ran a hand over the pale blonde locks.

"You said she's a granddaughter of sorts," Dean said. "How do you mean?"

Saetan chuckled a little, pausing to soothe Clarisse as she made a cute little noise before settling back into sleep against him. "Between my age and how many descendants there are possibly between her and I, we decided that she is simply a granddaughter of sorts. As is her mother."

"Your age?" Dean asked.

"Lord..." Saetan started.

"Please, call me Dean," Dean cut in. "I'm no Lord and formality was never my strong suit."

"Of course," Saetan said, sounding amused. "Well then, Dean, the truth is I am over 50,000 years old."

"You know, you mentioned that when we talked earlier and things were explained," Dean said. "I just figured you were yankin' our chains."

"I assure you, boyo, that I do not yank," Saetan told Dean dryly.

Daen grinned a bit then sobered some. “You must’ve seen a lot being that old,” he said. He straightened, realizing how that sounded. “I mean...”

Saetan chuckled softly, running a soothing hand down Clarisse’s back as she shifted from the soft rumble. “I know what you meant, boyo,” he said. “You are right. I have seen a lot. I’ve seen dynasties rise and fall. I’ve even been the cause of such falls.” His eyes got a slightly distant look as it was obvious he chased away an unwelcome memory.

“I know that look,” Dean said.

“Yes, I am sure you do,” Saetan commented. “You wore it as you walked into the room. Care to talk about it?” He watched as Dean shifted uncomfortably. “Sometimes getting it out can help when there is a sympathetic ear to listen.”

Dean studied his hands a moment before shaking his head a bit. “I just... keep thinking this is some dream,” he said. “That I’ll wake up and Sam and I will be back fighting Lucifer and demons. That Jo and Ellen will still be dead.” He got up and started to pace.

“I can’t...” Dean started, feeling his emotions slip.

“You can’t...?” Saetan prodded gently as he watched Dean.

“I can’t get the images out of my head,” Dean said. “Of Jo lying on that floor, her belly ripped open by hellhounds and slowly dying.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “That’s what I was dreaming of.”

“Physically you know that Lady Jo is fine,” Saetan said. “You see that with your own eyes. Mentally and emotionally... I wish I had a better answer but only time will be able to soothe your fears and the wounds the memories cause.”

“What if it doesn’t?” Dean asked. “My life has been nothing but... that.”

“It will,” Saetan assured him. “Even the most hardened of men, who’s lives have been nothing but pain, can find new beginnings here.”

“Speaking from experience?” Dean questioned.

“You could say that,” Saetan said. “But I also speak of my two youngest sons.”

“Daemon and Lucivar, right?” Dean asked. It was going to take a lot of time for him to get used to their names and the fact that they were not associated with the demon he had spent all of his life preparing to fight.

“Yes,” Saetan said. “They were mere children when they were taken from me, sold into slavery and told they were bastards. A stigma they carried for 1700 years.”

“That’s gonna take some getting used to,” Dean said.

Saetan smiled. “Indeed,” he said. “But my two sons, bitter from their lot in life, soon discovered some truths about their paternity and history. They were never bastards, despite what they were told, and they soon found everything they could ever want or need here. Centuries of pain and suffering are always going to be scars on their souls, but the memories are easier to face with the new lives they have.”

Dean was quite a moment, studying a figurine on the mantle of the fireplace. He didn’t look at Saetan when he asked the question. “Was it easy for them to let go?”

“No,” Saetan said. “It never is.” Dean frowned some, his throat working as he swallowed the lump forming. “But they soon discovered that there was a great deal here that proved more worthwhile to work past the bitterness then to keep a hold of it.”

“I don’t know if...” Dean paused as another voice interrupted.

“Grandfather?” Saetan turned to see the white haired beauty of his granddaughter. He smiled softly at her.

“Darling, what are you doing up?” he questioned.

“Xander said you came to get Clarisse...” Midalah, Queen of Nebula and Clarisse’s mother, walked further into the room. She looked between Dean and Saetan. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, it’s okay,” Saetan said, rising easily. “She had a nightmare and is more settled. Dean and I were talking.”

“I can take her so you can finish your conversation,” she suggested.

“A wonderful idea,” Saetan said, handing Clarisse to her mother. He smoothed a hand over the back of the toddler’s head before leaning over to press a kiss to her curls. He gave Midalah a soft smile and kissed her forehead. “Good night, darlings.”

“Good night, Grandfather,” Midalah said. “Good night, Lord Winchester.”

“Good night, Your Majesty,” Dean said, not correcting her on calling him a lord. Offering a soft smile, Midalah turned and left the room with her daughter.

“I should get back to bed,” Dean said, suddenly uncomfortable with the idea of how much the Nebulian queen may have heard.

“A moment,” Saetan said. Dean didn’t move. “I do understand the pain you have faced. But you are being handed a new beginning. A chance at the life you should have.”

“I have no idea what to do with that chance. I’m a hunter. It’s all I know,” Dean said.

“You will never lose that part of you,” Saetan said. “Just as Lucivar will never lose the warrior in him or Daemon will lose the Sadist in him.” Dean arched his eyebrow at the name. “Long story. The point is... you are who you are. There is a strength within you that no one else has and no matter how you live your life, that will always be within you.”

“I still don’t know what else I can do,” Dean said.

“You have not even been here a full day,” Saetan said. “You are not alone here and we will be with you every step of the way to help you transition into this new life. And we know that should the need ever arise for you to stand with us and use the skills you acquired as a hunter that you will.”

“That sure?” Dean asked, feeling uncertain over how this man could know him so well.

“Something you will learn as you adjust to being here is that there is always a reason for a Black Widow’s tangled web,” Saetan said. “And the webs only show important events to the weaver.”

“Meaning?” Dean asked.

“Jaenelle saw you, and Lady Jo, being here,” Saetan said. “The web she wove told her all she needed to know. Your place is here.”

“I just don’t know where to begin,” Dean said.

“You begin by returning to bed, wrapping your arms around the love you thought lost and worry about the rest tomorrow,” Saetan said. He reached over to grasp Dean’s shoulder and squeeze gently. “And remember that you have a lot of people here that will be more than glad to help you and yours through this.”

Dean did not expect the tears that suddenly threatened to fall. The simple gesture was something Dean had always wanted from his father, but never got. He knew his father would always be there when needed, but there was a distance that had always been in place because of the things they had done and the way of life they had because of demons. Now a man stood here, with the name of who Dean was always told to fight, showing him that names didn’t mean everything and that blood didn’t have to be the same to have a feeling of family.

Giving a shaky smile, trying to find his footing again, Dean nodded. “Thanks, Saetan,” he said.

“Good night, Dean,” Saetan said, understanding more than he would verbalize. With a short nod, Dean turned away from the High Lord of Hell and left the sitting room to return to his bedroom. He took a moment to watch the figure that lay beneath the covers and realized Saetan was right. The rest would hold till tomorrow and time would eventually ease the memories. What mattered was that he was here, Jo was here and alive, and they could start anew. Even Sam could as well as Ellen.

Shedding his shirt, Dean slipped beneath the covers as Jo stirred. “You okay?” she asked sleepily, moving over to snuggle into his side.

“I am now.”


End file.
